A Questing We Will Go
by JK Philips
Summary: Post-“Grave”: What’s up with mini-slayer Dawn? It has to be more than just watching Buffy fight. Giles stays to solve the puzzle. And dealing with Willow has its own fallout.
1. Chapter 1

TITLE: A Questing We Will Go  
AUTHOR: JK Philips  
RATING: PG (It will probably eventually get to R, if not NC17. For now, plain PG)  
SUMMARY: Where did Dawn learn to fight like that in "Grave?"  
TIMELINE: Immediately after "Grave"  
DISCLAIMER: I do not own these characters; they are the property of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy & Fox. I simply am doing this for fun, and non-profit use.

* * *

Gileswench wrote me a lovely Buffy/Star Trek: The Next Generation crossover for my birthday, with lots of Q, Data and the Buffybot, and my surprise favorite thing of the whole story: Worf wanting to court Anya. She asked nicely for a birthday fic of her own. She might have thought twice about that, seeing as my birthday was in May, and she still hasn't finished posting the fic yet. Let's see... It's the end of September now... I'm sure I can make hers last a while, at least until she finishes mine. ;) So don't nag me for more parts, nag her.

Happy belated birthday, Gileswench!  
Melissa

Here were her specifications, edited down somewhat for brevity:

In Grave, Dawn and Buffy fight side by side and little sister kicks way too much serious ass to have gotten it all by just watching Buffy in the past. This looks like mini-slayer time. I'd like to see a fic in which Buffy asks Giles to stay in Sunnydale and help her figure out just what Dawn's powers are and why this has happened. Of course, since Buffy and Giles must work side by side as a fully adult team on this project, they become closer and either develop or finally admit, serious mutual attraction. In point of fact, they fall very much in love and get together. Sound easy? Well, we can't have that, can we? So, I'm adding a few elements that must ALL be included:

1) I would like to see Giles learn of Spike's attempt to rape Buffy.

2) Willow must face real consequences for her actions. What punishment does she face and who metes it out?

3) I miss Xander. I want Xander to be funny and brave and a real stand up guy, if a bit of a spazz. And I want an apology out of him for what he did to Anya, dammit!

4) Giles has been living in England for several months, and he's a virile, attractive man. I want to know what he's been doing for female companionship while he's been away and I want Buffy to find out, too. After all, jealous Buffy is never not funny.

5) Make any B/G sex as graphic or as gauzy curtained as you like, but please, no bondage, no pain, no dominance games. They kind of squick me.

6) I want to know where the hell the money is coming from to pay back all those stores for Dawn's klepto phase.

7) So, Spike has a soul. And William was a gentle poet. This means Spike is a sweet, sensitive guy with no badness left in him now, right? It's one theory. I have another. After all, Angel is all broody and noble, but Liam was a drunken, brawling, whoring lout. Make Spike bad or brooding or recklessly suicidal or whatever, so long as he's NOT a sweet, sensitive author of really bad poetry.

8) I hate Doublemeat Palace. I want that place destroyed somehow. Preferably with a large explosion and lots of bonfires and stuff. And witnesses. Lots of witnesses. And a really hokey cover story the Scoobies must make up in a hurry.

Now on to our story...

* * *

Dear Diary,

I'm not sure what I'm supposed to be questing after. Buffy told me what she found in the desert, and to tell you the truth: a mountain lion may be cool to look at in the zoo, but I'm not sure how keen I am on meeting one without any bars between us. Do people ever get eaten by their spirit guides? Shoulda asked Giles about that. Nah. He probably woulda rolled his eyes and glared at me, like he did when I hummed the hokey pokey as Buffy jumped into and then out of that circle. She shook her gourd, and we sang the last line together: "And that's what it's all about!" before Giles turned his back on both of us and pointed me off into the desert. "Go quest," he'd mumbled, exasperated at both of us, I suppose.

We've been trying his patience lately, I think. Plus, his ribs still hurt him some, though he tries not to let it show. But it makes him cranky, and it doesn't help that Buffy and I have been in hyper-sister mode ever since she decided to drop the mopey attitude. I train with her most everyday, and all of our in-jokes go right over his head. He always sighs and shakes his head, and we giggle. It's nice to have my sister Buffy back and not the zombie sister she was before.

It's like she woke up from a year-long dream, and I know part of that is because of Tara dying. Bang. Today's Afterschool Special brought to you courtesy of Mack Truck. The message we will run you over with is this: Time is short and you can lose the people you love just when it looks like you might get the happily ever after after all. I wish Tara didn't have to die for me to get my sister back.

Part of the new Buffy also has to do with facing the end of the world together, fighting side by side as we waited for Willow to burn it to a cinder. Part of it was having Xander finally tell me what Spike did, I mean tried to do, and letting myself blow up at Buffy for keeping secrets, for shutting me out, shutting me out of everything. We yelled, had a little sword fight, hugged, went home for hot chocolate, and now things are good. But none of that is really what did it, I think. Buffy doesn't realize it herself, and she'd never expect me to notice even if she did, but she missed Giles. And now that he's back, I just wonder…

So here I sit on a rock in the middle of nowhere, writing in my diary as I wait for my spirit guide to show up and either lead me to my destiny or gobble me up whole. I'm keeping my fingers crossed for a vegetarian spirit guide. They have vegetarian things in the desert, right? In the margins I keep composing and rejecting different questions to ask when I get the chance. Buffy said her spirit guide became the first slayer. I hope mine becomes Mom. It would make sense. Mom was always good with the advice giving.

Will my guide tell me the future? Buffy's guide knew she was going to die, although if Buffy had figured that out sooner, we coulda maybe been ready with a big trampoline or something at the bottom of Glory's tower, saved everyone the death and resurrection heartache. I'm going to be a little smarter when I ask my guide. I figure it's like those stories with the wish-granting genies: you have to be very specific and not leave any loopholes. I'm not going to give my guide the chance to be vague.

There's just so much I want to know, I don't know which questions to ask. Buffy and Giles sent me here to ask the big slayer question, but there's also stuff I want to know just for me. And there's something I want to know for Buffy, something I think will make her happy, but I gotta know for sure before I say anything.

The desert is pretty empty. And hot. And boring. Not much to do but sit and wait. So I guess now would be as good a time as any to fill you in on all the details, everything that happened since the world didn't end…

* * *

Buffy headed Giles off at the door. He sighed, having hoped to avoid a lengthy farewell.

"Can I talk to you for a sec?"

He fingered the plane ticket in his pocket. "Now is not a good time, Buffy. I'll call you in a few hours, alright?" Her eyes then landed on the duffel bag in his hand, and he knew he had lost all chance at quietly slipping out.

"You're sneaking out?"

He sighed. "Not sneaking, Buffy. You knew I was going."

"Tomorrow, you said. Leaving early without telling anyone… that's pretty much sneaking out, Giles." She planted her hands on her hips. "You do that an awful lot. Not enough guts to say goodbye?"

"I thought I had said all my goodbyes at the impromptu goodbye party you threw me two days ago."

"The _unappreciated_ goodbye party I threw you two days ago."

He tilted his head in acknowledgement. "Be that as it may, I would rather forego any ceremony and simply depart quietly."

She crossed her arms in front of her, her eyes focused on the duffel bag in his hand as she thought. The bag contained only the minimum of necessities: a few toiletries he'd picked up at the store, a change of clothes Xander had bought for him at the mall, the ripped and bloodied clothes he'd worn into the hospital. One didn't generally teleport with more than the clothes on one's back. Thankfully, Giles had also thought to slip his passport into his back pocket, so the return flight should prove uneventful.

She finally raised her eyes to meet his. "Fine. No big farewells. But you have to say goodbye to Dawn. It's the rule from now on. Nobody else is just going to disappear out of her life if I can help it."

He nodded, accepting this. Buffy was right, of course. He was sneaking out, and he was a coward for doing so. The goodbyes never got easier, and he was afraid a time would come when he wouldn't be able to say goodbye. Better to slink out while he still could, before she had him wrapped around her finger again, before she lost this independence he had struggled so hard to give her. Had he been wrong to leave? Everything had fallen to pieces, and yet Buffy had emerged from the flames like the phoenix, reborn instead of resurrected, whole and strong and once again full of life.

He wanted to stay, but he couldn't. Willow needed him in Devon. The coven would take her magic at the new moon, and he had promised Xander that he would be there for her. Buffy had reluctantly agreed. And so if he could not stay here in Sunnydale, it was better to leave quickly and quietly before he could find a reason to stay.

He followed Buffy out to the back porch. Dawn was barefoot in the grass, practicing some tai chi moves Buffy had shown her earlier.

"Dawn!" Buffy called. "Giles is leaving. Come say goodbye."

Dawn stopped what she was doing and stared up at them, a sad frown creasing her brow. Giles felt a stab of guilt.

"Here," Buffy called, "put these away before you come in." She leaned over and picked something up off the second stair. He saw the flash of silver before his slayer began hurling knives at her sister. He took a quick step forward, a startled exclamation stuck in the back of his throat.

He registered a moment later that his slayer was intentionally aiming above her sister, none of the knives coming near enough to be a danger.

But more astonishing and unexpected than Buffy's actions was the fact that Dawn was reaching up and catching each knife as it whizzed past her.

Giles' duffel bag hit the porch with a thunk. He was fairly certain his jaw was hanging open.

Buffy brushed her hands off after she had thrown the last knife. "Oh, yeah," she tossed off casually with a shrug of her shoulders. "That's what I wanted to ask you about. What's up with mini-slayer Dawn?"


	2. Chapter 2

Giles leaned against the kitchen counter, thoughtfully chewing on the earpiece to his glasses. He'd thankfully managed to unearth a spare pair from one of the few Magic Box drawers that were still intact, and even more miraculously, the glasses themselves bore only a few scrapes along a lower rim. After Willow had forcibly taken his borrowed magic, his vision had returned to normal, and he'd realized that he'd neglected to teleport in with a pair. Of course, at the time he'd rather expected to be charging in on a suicide mission and glasses had seemed inconsequential.

"Well?" Buffy prompted. Both girls stared at him expectantly. They had only heard his side of the telephone conversation and were eager to know what he'd learned.

"Faith is still alive. And the Council Seers insist that no new slayer was called after your most recent death. So we can safely rule out the most obvious conclusion: Dawn is not a slayer."

Buffy nodded, then shook her head emphatically. "No, when we were fighting those earth beasties, Dawn kicked ass."

Dawn beamed at the praise. "Thanks."

They both glanced at her briefly before focusing back on each other. "Giles, she'd never held a sword before, and she finished off almost as many of those things as I did."

Dawn rolled her eyes. "I _told_ you: I've been watching you fight and train for few years here. Ever consider that maybe I just might have picked up a few things?"

Giles shook his head. "Swordplay is an art that can take years of study and practice to master. Even if you had somehow learned the 'how' of it through watching your sister, you wouldn't be any good at it on the first try. You would still require practice. Also, you caught those knives as she threw them. Even I can't do that. It would seem there is a greater mystery here."

He removed the plane ticket from his pocket and laid it on the counter. He had quite the dilemma before him.

"What're you going to do?" Buffy asked, leaning over to get a good look at his ticket. His flight left in a little over an hour.

"I could rebook for tomorrow, but I don't think this is something we're going to solve in a day or possibly even a week." He gave Buffy a serious stare. "One of us should be with Willow, someone she knows." He closed his eyes, tried to soften his words with a kind smile. "There are no guarantees…"

"Xander should go," Dawn answered decisively, as if the decision were already made.

"I would pay for his ticket myself if it were a possibility," Giles assured her. "But the backlash that's likely to occur when they take Willow's magic… Xander has no gifts himself and would not be able to withstand it."

"Anya then," Dawn offered. "She's demon now. She could do it."

"That's not a bad idea," Giles answered, surprised he hadn't thought of it himself. "She could actually teleport back and forth and update us as to Willow's prognosis."

Dawn crossed her arms and smirked at her sister. "You know, Buffy, if you had started listening to me years ago, you might have realized that I usually have pretty good ideas."

"Occasionally," was all Buffy would grudgingly admit.

Over the next few days, Giles put Dawn through her paces. She lacked a slayer's strength, and the bruises he'd accidentally given while sparring remained just as vivid on the third day, so it could safely be assumed that she also lacked a slayer's accelerated healing. She had no conscious knowledge of swordsmanship or martial arts or archery, and yet the knowledge was there in her muscle memory as he tested her. Her reflexes were quick, quicker than his, and on more than one occasion she was able to take him down. Dawn would high-five her sister whenever she managed such a feat, and Giles would pull himself stiffly to his feet, shaking his head and trying to piece together the puzzle of Dawn's newfound skills.

The Council could offer no insight. The Watchers' Diaries were no help. Most of the substantial Sunnydale library on the occult had been destroyed with the Magic Box. And the Coven were too busy preparing to take Willow's magic to offer any guidance.

Giles had few options left to him, no other leads to follow, and a mystery that desperately needed solving. And so he called England and asked his new friend for help. Her insights were generally spot on, and he'd grown to trust her instincts over the months since he'd returned to Bath. She had Seer's blood surely, even if she staunchly denied it, and for the moment, she was his best chance at solving the mystery of Dawn.

His only hesitation was that her assistance would require that the others meet her, and he wasn't sure if he was ready for that. Namely, he wasn't sure if he was ready for Buffy to meet her. But, like every other time in his life, he would have to set aside personal feelings for the sake of duty.

* * *

"So what if Dawn does turn out to be a mini-slayer or something?" Xander had accompanied Buffy on patrol, and the two were wandering through the cemeteries together, looking for something shifty to show up.

"I don't know. On the one hand, I like that she can hold her own. I did promise her I wouldn't keep her wrapped in cotton anymore. Plus, the training, the sparring, it's like this bonding thing we have going now. Things are good with me and Dawn, really good, for like the first time since Mom died."

"On the other hand, your little girl's growing up." Xander bumped into her playfully. "I mean, first comes the slaying, then before you know it, there's dating and angsty vampire love affairs. And then you turn around one day, and your little girl's slayer enough to kick _your_ ass."

"No way! Dawn's never going to be able to kick my ass. And if she ever pulled an Angel on me, I'd kick _her_ ass."

"As long as that's settled."

Buffy frowned and stomped madly on the grave they had stopped in front of. "C'mon, wake up down there. I want to kick _someone's_ ass!"

"Maybe he wasn't attacked by a vampire. People can lose a lot of blood from other things. Or maybe he rose before they buried him, while he was in the funeral home or something."

"Well, that would be pretty inconsiderate, wasting my whole evening like that." She brightened suddenly. "Oooh, maybe something lurky's moved into Spike's crypt since he left."

"Nah, I think Clem's still holding down the fort."

"Damn! Why does big evil always take the summer off? I could really use a good slay right about now."

"Because of the whole Dawn thing, right? Admit it: this bothers you just a little."

Buffy sighed and jumped up to have a seat on Mr. Hatmore's tombstone. "Okay, maybe a little. I don't want her to get stuck in this gig like I am, you know? I don't want to protect her from everything anymore, but I don't want her to have to worry about duty and responsibility and sacred birthrights either. I don't want her to get Chosen and get all her choices taken away."

"But Giles said she's not a slayer, right? This is something else."

"Until we figure out what else exactly… Hold that thought. Two steps to the left, Xander."

"Huh?"

His question was answered a second later as a hand broke through the soil and grabbed his ankle. "Agh!" he cried, kicking at the undead hand with his other foot.

"I told you to move."

A second hand surfaced and grabbed his other ankle. "Little help here, Buff."

"Just be bait for a sec, and I'll stake him when he comes up."

"Bait? Why do I always hafta be bait?"

"When are you ever bait?"

"Alright, nothing comes immediately to mind, but that doesn't make this particular instance any less harrowing."

The vampire's head surfaced next, and Xander waved at the slayer frantically. "His head's by my feet, Buffy. What if he bites my ankles? That's how Achilles died, isn't it?"

"By vampire?"

"No, with the whole ankle thing."

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Oh, for God's sake." She hopped off her tombstone perch and pulled a knife from her boot. Diving down between Xander's legs, she found herself nose to nose with the rising fledging. "Hey, Mr. Hatmore, remember all those times you reprimanded me for being late for work, or taking too long on break, or not giving my all to my wonderful burger slinging career?"

Mr. Hatmore growled and bared his fangs.

"See, I knew you'd remember. Well, there's something I need to tell you about that. I've been moonlighting as a vampire slayer." She put the blade beneath his chin, just as he managed to wriggle his shoulders free of the earth. "Bad news for you: break's over, time for me to get back to work."

She pushed the blade forward in one clean thrust and sliced his head off. The hands around Xander's ankles turned to dust.

Buffy rolled over and smiled up at Xander from her position between his legs. "See, not so bad."

He nodded thoughtfully. "Time was I would have had some clever remark about you laying there between my legs, but now…" He placed his hands on his hips and struck a pose. "Now, I am Xander, saver of the entire world, and I am above such juvenile behavior."

"Uh-huh. How 'bout a hand up then?"

He pulled her to her feet and gallantly dusted her off, earning a smack on the arm when his hands ventured too far south.

"Sorry," he muttered as they both headed out of the cemetery and towards home.

"That was the third DoubleMeat vamp this month," Buffy observed.

"Maybe they like the food?"

She frowned and shook her head. "I highly doubt that."

"Maybe they like the people who eat the food?"

"Even less likely. I think it's because I work there. Being the slayer, I'm sort of a demon magnet."

"I was a demon magnet once. No fun." He nodded his head in understanding. "And _that's_ why you don't want Dawn to be a slayer."

"Bingo. But hopefully, Giles will figure it all out, and Dawn will get to be a normal girl. Well, as normal as you get in Sunnydale, at any rate."

"Although if Giles took a bit longer to figure it out, that wouldn't be all bad."

Buffy abruptly stopped walking. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing! Just… I can tell you missed him, that you like having him back. You guys are the three musketeers with the whole Dawn thing, and frankly, you're happier than I've seen you all year. So if Giles stuck around a while longer researching this all out, I wouldn't complain."

She started walking again, her mind now puzzling through worries she hadn't even considered before. "You really think he'll leave again once we figure out what's up with Dawn?"

"Well, he doesn't live here anymore, Buffy. He only came back because…"

"Yeah, right."


	3. Chapter 3

_He only came back because he had to._

That was the thought Buffy brooded on all night, turning restlessly, chasing sleep. Nothing short of the end of the world would have brought Giles back to Sunnydale. Certainly not because she needed him. Not because his slayer had been ripped from paradise by her friends and needed someone to lean on just a little. That wouldn't have been enough to bring him back and definitely wouldn't be enough to keep him here.

She finally felt like she belonged, like she'd reclaimed that piece of herself she'd left behind in her grave. What if Giles took that piece of her with him when he left again? What if she went back to feeling disconnected, depressed, and just plain _wrong_? The last time Giles left, she'd kissed Spike against the staircase of the Bronze, kissed him and closed her eyes and pretended that she wasn't willingly throwing herself deeper into hell. Spike could make her forget heaven, because he was so far from it, there was nothing to remind her of what she'd lost.

_You know, I always wondered about you two._

Had anyone else wondered? Because having lost Giles once and now having him back, she wondered a bit herself. The idea of him leaving again wouldn't tear her up inside like this if she only thought of him as a friend. A shove from the nest by a father figure wouldn't have sent her off to bang the first cold body she could lay her hands on either.

_When I kissed you? You know I was thinking about Giles, right?_

A person didn't kiss someone and think of their father. Not a normal person, at any rate.

When Giles left this time, what kind of colossal blunders would she make? Would she start ignoring Dawn again? Not notice her friends falling apart around her? Go through the motions of life without really living? And was she really afraid of losing Giles, was she really beginning to suspect she had feelings for him, or was she just afraid of losing herself and reverting back to the empty shell she'd been after her resurrection?

Three days ago, she would have waved him off at the airport with a few parting words about keeping in touch. She had thrown him a goodbye party even. She'd known he was leaving.

And three days later, she'd forgotten. Three days of hanging out with him 24/7, just her and him and Dawn, working as a team to solve this sudden mystery… The easy camaraderie reminded her of what she'd been missing without him. She'd stopped thinking about his leaving, pushed it out of her mind until Xander had brought it up again while patrolling.

And now the possibility loomed front and center in her thoughts. And her feelings about the prospect were very different than they had been three days ago.

She trudged wearily down the stairs to breakfast in the morning, having worried over the subject for most of the night.

Giles was awake already, his bedding folded neatly on one end of the couch. It made his stay seem even more temporary. She should suggest moving him into her mother's old room. Willow wasn't using it anymore.

He glanced up from the book he was reading. "You didn't sleep well last night?"

"How'd you guess?"

He nodded towards the ceiling. "I heard you moving around more than usual. Plus, your eyes…" He wiggled his fingers in front of his eyes, not quite finishing his sentence.

She covered her face. "Great. Raccoon eyes. I'm a middle aged woman with bags under her eyes, worrying about her teenage daughter, and stuck in a dead-end job. Which reminds me, can't call in sick four days in a row. Gotta suit up for the DoubleMeat doubleshift today, so you and Dawn are on your own with the research."

She headed off to the kitchen for cereal. Giles had cooked them eggs the last few days. Tara used to make pancakes. She didn't feel like asking for anything today. Best get used to cereal again.

Giles followed on her heels. "The DoubleMeat? What are you talking about?"

"I told you." She poured a bowl of sugar something that would turn her milk pink before the last bite. Mental note: Dawn not allowed to buy groceries in the future. "Remember when you zapped in to stop DarkWillow? You asked what had been happening, Willow abusing the magicks, Anya getting her vengeance on again... Remember? I told you all of it. Dawn's a klepto, I've been slinging burgers—"

"I thought you were kidding." He sagged against the counter, face completely deflated. "I laughed."

"It's okay, Giles. I laughed, too. It felt good to laugh about it."

Giles shook his head, and in his eyes, she could see he was rerunning their past conversation. "After finding Willow in that state, and then learning where things stood between Xander and Anya… And then you kept going, rattling off a whole list, and I couldn't believe all of it. I thought you were putting me on. After you said you'd been sleeping with Spike, I knew you were." His face changed as he began to realize the truth of her words. Buffy's cheeks burned with shame. She couldn't meet his eyes.

"Yeah, all true." She snuck a glance to measure his reaction, his _real_ reaction, but he was busy polishing his glasses. "Disappointed?"

He examined his lenses before donning them again. "No. It's not my place to judge you. You're a grown woman. You're free to choose your… your lovers… as you see fit. It's just…"

"Just what, Giles?"

He did meet her eyes then. She didn't see the disappointment she'd feared or even the disgust she thought she deserved. He looked sad, concerned even.

"It's just that he doesn't deserve you. You're so much better than him. I wish you could believe that. And I wonder how he convinced you otherwise."

_That's not your world. You belong in the shadows... with me._

Buffy shrugged off the whole Spike badness as inconsequential, while part of her wanted Giles to press the issue. She wanted to confess how Spike had made her feel dirty and shamed and less than human, so far beneath her friends, so undeserving of love, that he seemed the only alternative. She wanted Giles to know what Spike had almost done, how powerless she had felt, how frightened, the guilt she still carried that she might have brought it on herself by using him and discarding him and turning violence into foreplay. Reap what you sow. She'd said no so many times before without meaning it, pushed him away with one hand while reaching with the other. Spike couldn't take all the blame for what had happened in that bathroom. She had to have known on some level that _that_ was what came from fucking a soulless vampire.

She didn't say any of it. She just shrugged, told Giles she'd ended it and Spike had skipped town, and waited for him to push her to fill in the blanks.

He didn't. He let the Spike issue rest where she'd left it. "And the DoubleMeat, Buffy? Are you really working in some fast food establishment?"

"We needed the money."

"The check I gave you—"

"—didn't last as long as I thought it would." Buffy glanced towards the staircase and lowered her voice. "Turns out Dawn was sneaking money to pay off the stores that caught her stealing. I didn't know where the money was going, but it was going and I had to work somewhere if I was going to keep up. After I found out about the whole klepto thing… well, the rest of your check paid for the rest of her criminal spree. Happy birthday, me. Kinda was stuck slinging burgers to pay the bills after that."

"I hope you insisted that Dawn take some responsibility for remuneration."

"What's she gonna do, Giles, work the DoubleMeat register next to me?" Buffy emptied her half-eaten cereal in the sink. Giles had complained during training that she'd lost weight, but she didn't feel much like eating at the moment. "Don't worry. I've got a score sheet, and she's slowly paying me back. No screaming fits or slamming doors, no complaints about taking the trash out, dinner's on the table when I get home from work, no skipping school, homework done everyday, and no allowance for like _ever_. Trust me, Giles, I'm getting way more mileage out of this than if I sold her off to a sweatshop somewhere. She helps Anya at the shop on the weekends to pay her back, or at least she did until the shop went kablooie. Dawnie's not getting off scott-free this time. You were right about the spinning out of control, and I was wrong to try and dump it on you. But I got it covered now. New and improved Buffy. Take a mental picture, 'cause when I get back in a few hours, I'm gonna be tired and smelly Buffy."

He shadowed her out of the kitchen and up the stairs. "You needn't work a degrading, minimum wage job. You can surely find something more suited to your talents."

"Something involving hitting and running and jumping and pointy sticks? Nothing comes immediately to mind."

He sighed. "You're a smart girl, Buffy. With talents unrelated to your calling as the slayer." He had followed her right into her bedroom.

"Giles, I'm going to change into my uniform now. You gonna stand there and watch?" They both blushed. Somehow that had sounded different in her head.

"Sorry. Sorry." He ducked out in a hurry.

"Smooth, Buffy, real smooth," she muttered as she donned the ridiculous outfit that came with her lame job. He was waiting in the hallway for her when she emerged a few minutes later.

To his credit, he did attempt to keep a straight face.

"You're allowed to laugh."

He did, doubled over, gasping for breath, with the same amusement he'd shown back in the Magic Box when he'd first returned and had thought she was joking about her litany of tragedies. "I'm sorry, Buffy." He'd get himself under control, and then bust out laughing all over again. "It's just the hat… You're honestly required to wear that?"

"Haven't you ever been to a DoubleMeat Palace before?" Long pause. "Never mind. Dumb question."

Giles shadowed her down the stairs, wiping tears of mirth from the corner of his eyes, glasses dangling from one hand. "Seriously, Buffy. Let me pay your expenses until you find a better job. Think of it as an apology for leaving."

For leaving now or then?

"I'll think about it. Right now, I gotta go to work." He seemed inclined to argue with her, so she decided to let him off the hook. "It's not just about the money, Giles. Something's up at the DoubleMeat. Last night I dusted one of my supervisors. That makes three so far this month. Seems like more than coincidence, seems like something I should check out." Pausing at the front door, she added, "Tell you what: I'll bring you back a DoubleMeat special for dinner."

"Must you?"

* * *

"So what's this testing for?" Dawn sat cross-legged in the middle of the living room floor while Giles circled her, lighting candles.

"Your ability to remain quiet for five minutes."

"And that tells you what? That I have stealthy slayer power?"

"That you can remain quiet for five minutes."

Dawn rolled her eyes. "Look who's Mr. Snotty when Buffy's not here to dish it back."

"Look who has yet to remain quiet for five seconds."

"Fine, fine, I'll zip it." Five seconds lapsed. Giles positioned himself across from her, closing his eyes and focusing inward.

Another ten seconds passed.

"So really, what's this testing?"

"My patience."

"Ha. Ha. It's a spell, isn't it?"

His eyes popped open, and he leaned forward eagerly. "Can you feel it?"

She crinkled her nose. "No, but I can smell it. Stinky magic herbs. What's the spell for?"

He relaxed back, trying once again to reach some sort of meditative state. "I'm attempting to see if you have untapped magic potential. Perhaps manifesting itself in some sort of slayeresque—" He bowed his head. "Bugger. I don't know, Dawn. I'm grasping at straws."

"You don't have to figure it out today, you know. You can stay as long as it—" She paused as he lifted his head to look at her. "—takes," she finished. "Hey! Let's go visit Buffy at work. We can be rude customers. I can get away with it if you play too."

"Dawn, don't you want to know why you have these abilities? I was under the impression you desired answers as much as we did."

"Yeah, but…" She turned bashful. "But then you're leaving again, aren't you?" She fiddled with the clasp of her bracelet. "I was kinda getting used to having you around. I was kinda getting used to the way Buffy is when you're around."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Nothing."

* * *

"You don't look sick to me, Summers."

Buffy stopped mid-flip, the burger patty still on her paddle. Halfway through her doubleshift, and things just kept getting better. Of all the supervisors she worked with, why couldn't Todd, Mr. I'm Getting My MBA At Night School While You're A College Dropout, end up as the undead special? "Yeah, Todd. See, I stayed home _while_ I was sick. Now all better. That's why it's 'calling in sick' rather than 'coming in sick.'"

"Yeah. Well, you probably heard the bad news about Mr.Hatmore…"

"Yeah, saw him last night—" Buffy froze. Uh-oh, quick save needed. "—last night in the paper. Read about it. Just awful."

"Third mugging we've had in the parking lot this month."

"Mugging. Right."

"Just watch yourself after dark, Summers. You're one of the only employees we've got that's lasted more than two months." Todd headed towards the front to offer the cashiers advice about smiling at the customers or selling them extra items or the mighty political structure of the Palace. He added almost as an afterthought, "Oh, and we'll need you to pull another double tomorrow, too. We're a little shorthanded. Josh never showed up this morning. And I'm sure you'd like to make up your sick time, anyway."

Buffy imagined it was Todd's face she was pressing into the grill instead of the imitation meat patty.

Another DoubleMeat employee missing. Now she was sure something was up.

* * *

Buffy patrolled on the way home, avoiding going back to the house and buying herself some time to think. She encountered no vamps, killed no demons. They could probably smell her coming.

But she did accomplish a lot of thinking and even some decision making. She would talk to Giles that night. She'd ask him to stay even after they figured out the deal with Dawn. Buffy needed her watcher. Willow had proved unreliable. Anya's loyalties could be considered questionable now that she was technically employed by the other team. Xander and Dawn weren't big into the research, and Buffy couldn't do it by herself.

She'd ask him to stay as her watcher. She'd promise not to be all clingy and needy. She'd promise to deal with her own stuff if he helped with the book stuff. Like old times. And if his staying meant she'd have time to figure out her own feelings and come to some kind of conclusion as to why his leaving bothered her so much… well, that would just be a bonus.

She came in the back door, hoping to sneak upstairs for a shower before having that conversation.

But he and Dawn were in the kitchen, washing up dishes, and they saw her come in.

"Buffy!" Giles turned and leaned back against the counter, flipping the dish towel over his shoulder. "I took your threat of fast food at face value and cooked dinner. I'll warm you up a plate."

He was grinning at her. It was probably still just the silly hat, but the way he was grinning at her… Her stomach did that topsy-turvy thing, and her heart started beating faster, and oh God, she _did_ have feelings for Giles. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, and all those months he'd been gone, and she'd been fantasizing about him coming back while her life was falling apart around her. Fantasizing not in the she-was-in-love-with-him- and-wanted-to-jump-his-bones-in-the-airport-lobby kind of fantasizing, more like the she-missed-her-friend- who-always-gave-her-a-hand-up- when-she-needed-it- and-had-always-been-her-emotional-sanctuary kind of a fantasizing. But somehow it had all gotten mixed up in her head over time, and it didn't help that he'd zapped in from England looking all sexy and intense and suddenly a big magic expert who could go ten rounds with a pissed off Willow. Without his glasses and wearing that coat and all super cool, swooping in to rescue them in the nick of time, not at all the old fuddy duddy she remembered from high school. For just a second, she'd thought she'd imagined him, so that when she'd said his name, it had been almost a question.

Anya had told her he was dying. He didn't have much time left. And somehow that had been worse than Willow's vengeance spree culminating in a possible apocalypse.

Time apart, and now she no longer saw him through a child's eyes. She saw her best friend, who knew her better than anyone else, the one person she could confide in, things she could never tell anyone else. The first one she'd told about killing a souled Angel to close Acathla, the first one she'd told about Dawn's true nature, the first one she'd called while standing over her mother's cold body.

She panicked, muttered something about needing a shower, and escaped from his presence. This was bad on so many levels.

She stopped short in the foyer. There was a woman sitting on the living room couch, reading, one foot tucked delicately beneath her.

The woman lifted her eyes from the text and smiled. Thin, wire rimmed glasses perched on the tip of her nose, dark hair swept back in a sophisticated chignon, poise, class, elegance. Everything Buffy lacked. A soft, cultured, British accent greeted her.

"Ah, you must be Buffy. Rupert speaks of you often. I feel as though I know you."

Bad on so many levels, because Buffy never got a drop of happiness that wasn't followed by getting the rug pulled out from under her. "Yeah, I wish I could say the same, but…"

Giles came up behind her, one hand touching the small of her back as the other gestured towards his guest. "Buffy, this is Emily, a new friend from back home. I believe I might have mentioned her when I was here the last time."

"Yeah, except for the her being a her part of it."

The only thing that could make this moment worse would be if Buffy were wearing a hat with a big, ugly stuffed cow's head on the front and a rooster tail on the back, which— oh, right— she was.


	4. Chapter 4

"Buffy? Are you gonna come back down? You were in the shower for like an hour." Dawn knocked softly on Buffy's door. "Whatcha doing?"

Buffy opened the door and waved her sister in. Dawn noticed an impressive pile of clothing on the floor in the corner, including-

"Hey, that's _my_ shirt!" She claimed the baby tee and a cute pair of khakis beneath it that were technically Buffy's.

"Does this look okay?" Buffy modeled her outfit: cream peasant blouse that might possibly belong to Willow (maybe not the wisest thing, borrowing from someone who had recently flayed another human being), and plain jean shorts that hugged her pretty tightly.

"Sure. I guess. I mean, we're not going out." Dawn frowned, not completely understanding her sister's sudden insecurity about her fashion choices. "Are you trying to impress Emily or something, 'cause I don't think she really cares."

"About her…" Buffy held a different top up to her chest and checked herself out in the mirror. "When did she get here? Did you know she was coming?"

"A couple hours ago. Giles invited her, but I guess he didn't expect her so early." Dawn plopped down on Buffy's bed, grabbing Mr. Gordo the stuffed pig and idly tossing him in the air repeatedly. "Do you think she's his girlfriend? He didn't kiss her when she walked in, but he's so stuffy and old, he probably doesn't kiss in public and I don't think I'd want to see it anyway."

"He's not that old."

"Not compared to _your_ boyfriends, I guess." Dawn found the pig snatched from the air mid-tumble and glared at her sister. She wasn't hurting anything. "I don't know if she's his girlfriend, but I think he likes her. She made him laugh a lot during dinner. And when we were doing dishes, he asked me if I thought you'd like her."

Buffy dropped the shirt she was currently considering. "Why would he care if I like her?"

"Duh! He cares about what you think." Dawn sat up. "I hope she _is_ his girlfriend. They have a lot in common. And he hasn't had a real girlfriend since Miss. Calendar died. Emily seems nice, and I don't like the thought of Giles living over there in England and being all lonely and pathetic."

Buffy slowly folded the pullover in her hands and tucked it back in the drawer. Something in her face had changed, her expression gone blank. "Yeah, they probably do have a lot in common. Go on downstairs, Dawnie. I'll be right behind you."

That hadn't been a request, and since Dawn hadn't balanced the karmic scale yet with Buffy and the whole klepto deal, she departed without complaint.

* * *

_I don't want him to be lonely. I don't want anyone to._

The words were as true now as they had been when she'd said them to Jenny Calendar. So Giles had maybe found someone. As long as she wasn't a gypsy sent to spy on them or a scaredy cat who'd desert him after she'd spotted her first demon, then maybe Giles could actually be happy with her. And what did Buffy really think she was going to do about it? Spend the next however many days acting out the remake of "My Best Friend's Wedding" with her in the Julia Roberts role? That wasn't fair on Giles. She couldn't do that to him, not after costing him Jenny. Besides, Julia Roberts had lost the guy in the end anyway.

Buffy changed into something more relaxed, pulled her hair back in a quick ponytail, and headed downstairs without bothering with makeup.

Giles and Emily were bent over books, deep in research, their foreheads nearly touching. So cute it made Buffy want to vomit.

"I'm going patrolling," she informed them, reaching for a jacket.

That coaxed Giles out of his books for a moment. "I thought you already had done. Isn't that why you were so late coming home?"

She shrugged. "Yeah, but I still haven't found who I'm looking for. Another Doublemeat drone went missing today, isn't at home, and in all likelihood ended up as some vampire's doublesweet doubletreat. Someone's turning all my coworkers, and survey says it isn't to open a competing restaurant. So I got my own research to do."

"Can I come?" Dawn begged.

She had promised to show her sister the world, and if a slayer gig was in the cards for her, better to stretch her wings on a routine patrol with her big sis watching her back. Besides, Xander and Willow had patrolled with her at the same age, and neither of them could wield a sword even half as well as Dawnie had back in that cave-in.

"Sure, just let me take the lead. And if I say stay back, you stay back."

Dawn already had a favorite sword from their practice sessions, and she grabbed it before Buffy had the chance to change her mind. Bouncing out of the house, giddy at the prospect of using the sword for more than training, Dawn let the door slam behind her, forgetting about her sister.

Buffy smiled and rolled her eyes. The most difficult words out of her mouth came next. Awkwardly, she indicated the staircase and told Emily that she could stay in Willow's room if she liked. She didn't wait for the answer.

The true test would be to see if Giles was on the couch when they got home. Or if he was upstairs with her.

* * *

Dear Diary,

I'm starting to wonder if my spirit guide got a better gig. I'm also wondering why Buffy and Giles didn't send me into the desert with some food and water at least. Maybe the whole spirit guide thing is just a trick of dehydration and starvation. You know, brain cells firing off hallucinations as they slowly die off from lack of sustenance. Maybe that's why it's taking my guide longer to show, 'cause I'm not as anorexic as Buffy. My brain's still got some reserves to drain dry before it starts with the magic mushroom show.

Re: above… Just a fancy way of saying that I'm in the middle of the frickin' desert, and I'M THIRSY! AND STARVING!

My spirit guide better show up with delivery.

And oh, yeah, I was talking about Emily. And Buffy. And Giles.

Buffy's been in hyper-matchmaker mode since Emily got here a couple days ago. Bringing me on patrol with her every night so the two of them can have "alone time." Talking Giles up to Emily, making him sound like the bestest guy in the whole world. Little things about him I didn't think she'd ever noticed. She sounds so convincing, maybe _she_ should be the one dating him. He made dinner for us one night, and you'd think Julia Child was cooking the way Buffy raved about it to Emily.

And Giles… Buffy drops hints like crazy around Giles, but either he's not catching on, or he's just ignoring her. He likes Emily, I think. I catch him staring at her sometimes when he thinks I'm not looking. But he's not sleeping upstairs with her, which means either they're not a couple yet or they're trying to set a good example for my young, impressionable mind. God, I hope Giles doesn't think I'm _that_ sheltered.

As for Emily: either she likes him or she doesn't, but I can't tell which. Aloof, was what Buffy said, a Brit thing. They have to get to know you before they'll loosen up. To give me an example, Buffy told me the story of when Giles first showed up as her watcher: uptight, all work, no play, big words, and ten layers of tweed. I think Buffy actually sighed.

So anyway, it was Emily's idea to send me on this little desert quest. Giles was skeptical. But she thought that I had a strong enough connection to the Slayer, being her sister, being made from her by the monks, that I should get some answers if I came here looking.

Buffy assured me, as if it were some comfort, that it takes more than a week to bleach bones. Huh? Giles just laughed. He may get annoyed at all our sister in-jokes sometimes, but they do it too. They have their little code between them that no one else gets. Emily's noticed, too. She asks me for translations like I have a clue. I just make stuff up, and she doesn't know the difference.

Buffy wanted Emily to come on this quest with me and Giles. More "alone" time. Like if they were stuck in the middle of nowhere together, something might happen that wouldn't have happened anywhere else. But Buffy had to come. She had to be the one to do the Hokey Pokey thing and transfer her guardianship of me to the spirit guide. So it's just her and Giles in the middle of nowhere now. And I'm kinda hoping Buffy might be right about sticking two people alone together for a long enough time. Maybe she might figure out why she's working so hard at fixing Emily up with Giles. Maybe he might even figure it out too.

I've decided what to ask my spirit guide. I think. I'm gonna start by

* * *

_Oh. My. God._

Dawn clicked her pen closed and slipped her diary in her coat pocket. Slow, even motions, designed not to startle. Her spirit guide had arrived.

She slowly rose from her rock seat and approached silently. Her caution evaporated like her sweat under the desert sun when she realized her spirit guide seemed disinclined to bolt. The wonder, too, faded when she remembered the way Buffy had described her experience: the ethereal grace and beauty of that great cat moving toward her like a mirage. Dawn had been hoping for some sort of transcendent experience herself. She deserved it after hours sitting outside in the desert heat.

Hands on her hips, she complained to the universe in general. "A bunny? Buffy gets a cool mountain lion, and I get a _bunny_? What kind of lame spirit guide are you?"

The bunny's nose twitched.

Dawn sighed. "Fine. Lead on."

The bunny began hopping. Dawn followed. The pair inched their way across the sand at a modest half mile per hour. That lasted all of ten minutes.

"You know what? My legs are longer than yours." Dawn plucked her spirit guide up off the ground. "I'll walk, and you let me know if I make a wrong turn."

Probably not adhering to the strictest interpretation of "follow" your spirit guide, but in her defense, Giles had never explicitly said no carrying of the spirit guide.

* * *

"Truth or dare?"

Giles paused momentarily before turning the page of the book spread open across his lap. He didn't bother to lift his eyes. He would find nothing in her expression to explain that nonsequitur. "Excuse me?"

"Truth or dare. It's like a slumber party game kids play."

He closed the book in his lap and set it aside. Standing, he stretched out the kinks in his back. It was growing too dark to read. "This somehow resembles a slumber party?"

She was sitting on the hood of his rental car, filing her nails. She shrugged. "Campfire burning, sun going down, we're stuck here for a little while longer... Feels kinda retreaty. It's either truth or dare or telling scary stories, and to be perfectly honest, neither one of us scare very easily."

Sliding his hands in his pockets, he deadpanned, "You could tell me the one about you and Spike."

Something flashed across her face at the mention of Spike's name, something that worried him. Her answering smile seemed forced. She asked again, "Truth or dare?"

He leaned against the car beside her, staring off into the horizon, the setting sun turning the sky pink. "Obviously there's something you wish to ask me, and since you had the maturity to come right out with it rather than hiding behind silly children's games, I choose dare."

He turned his head in time to see her irritated glare.

"All right. Fine Dare." She took a deep breath and hummed softly as if contemplating her options. "Probably not the wisest choice for a guy who embarrasses way easier than me."

"We're not seriously playing this game, Buffy."

She hopped off the car. "Oh yes we are. You said dare. So this is your dare." Her eyes lit up as an idea obviously occurred to her. Giles mentally groaned. "Your dare is to… when we get back to Sunnydale, you have to kiss Emily. In front of everyone. And I mean really kiss her."

He shook his head, completely baffled. "You want to watch me kiss Emily? Whatever for?"

"You don't want to kiss her?" She seemed disheartened by this prospect, as if they were discussing the imminent possibility that the earth would be sucked into hell.

"I didn't say that, Buffy." He sighed, feeling himself beginning to get tongue tied before he'd even begun. The topic of conversation was awkward to say the least, and they were both far past the age of teenage gossiping. "Look, it hasn't escaped my notice over the last few days that you may have more than a slight interest in arranging some sort of… of courtship."

"Dating, Giles. They call it dating now."

"The point is that we're both adults. I don't need someone to pass her notes during study hall."

"Sorry. I just have this really vivid memory of you practicing pickup lines on a chair." She twisted the bracelet on her wrist and found a very interesting spot of sand to focus on. "And I… I don't want you to be lonely. I just thought that you and Emily get along really well together, you know, and maybe I could help. Maybe I could make you happy."

He reached out to touch her shoulder, thought better of it, and pulled his hand back before she noticed. "The sentiment is appreciated."

She sighed and rubbed her bare arms. The air was rapidly cooling as night fell. He stripped off his own jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders.

"My turn," he told her.

"Huh?"

"Truth or dare?"

She smiled then and slipped her arms in the sleeves of his jacket. "Truth."

"What happened between you and Spike? There's something more you haven't told me yet."

Her eyes widened, and she turned her back on him.

"Buffy?" He did place his hand on her shoulder this time, gently inviting her to face him again.

When she did, he could see the tears pooling in her eyes, the raw pain etched across her face. He wanted to drown Spike in a vat of holy water.

He caught and held her eyes with his own. He could see that she was working up the courage to tell him something. Her mouth opened. The words nearly left her lips, but she never got the chance to speak.

With a flash, Anya teleported in only a few feet from them.

"Finally! Do you know how many empty sand dunes I had to go through before finding you two?"

"Anya?" they said in unison.

"Yes. At least someone still knows who I am." She marched over, completely oblivious to the intense emotions she had interrupted. Plainly, without dressing it up, she came straight to the point. "It's Willow."

Whatever color remained in Buffy's face drained out with that pronouncement. "Oh, God. Not again. She's not… not…"

"Not psychotically plotting to end the world in a fiery blaze of magic again? Nope. No worries about that happening again. The coven finished the spell."

Giles came to the obvious conclusion. "It didn't work."

"Oh, no. It worked. Sucked all her magic right out. They have it in a little jar. Like tonsils. But the coven said that the power was never hers in the first place. The power had come into her somehow. It was much older than her and didn't match her life energy at all. Explains how she suddenly got nearly godlike powers when just a few years ago her spells were unintentionally sicking demons on her friends and pairing you up with Spike." Anya grinned as if that were the punch line to some horrible joke. "Wow. That was a bit of foreshadowing there, huh?"

Buffy rolled her eyes, whatever upsetting emotions she'd nearly confessed a few moments before now firmly shoved back down inside. She was all business. "If everything's fine, then why the beam in and freak out?"

"I never said everything was fine. I said the spell worked. Took her magic. Fried her brain too, but that's why they have you sign disclaimers before major witchcraft. I'm sure the possibility was in the small print there somewhere."


	5. Chapter 5

_Gods, bind him, cast his heart from the evil... realm... return... I call on..._

Willow's energy was failing. She couldn't keep the spell going. Her weakened and battered body had passed its limit, her breathing labored, blackness creeping into the edges of her vision as unconsciousness threatened. She slumped forward.

And then suddenly, she sat bolt upright, head snapped backwards, face to the sky. She felt something go through her, powerful, scary, and then it was gone. Like an ocean wave passing over her and knocking her off her feet. This time she did collapse, pulled down into oblivion for how long, she didn't know.

_Te implor Doamne, nu ignora accasta rugaminte!_

Words floated through her head. An echo of power and magicks.

_Nici mort, nici al fiintei..._

She didn't understand their meaning.

_Lasa orbita sa fie vasul care-I va transporta sufletul la el!_

But it seemed like she should recognize them. It seemed like they were spoken in her voice.

_Asa sa fie! Asa sa fie! Acum!_

But the memory remained as elusive as a dream after waking, and then she _was_ waking.

_Acum!_

She became aware that she was lying on a bed, unsure how long she'd been unconscious for this time. Her head still felt big, definitely not head-sized, and she didn't want to risk opening her eyes just yet. She shifted slightly, and the weight of someone's hand settled over the top of her arm.

"Oz?"

"Oz?" an unfamiliar female voice echoed back. "Who—? Ah, yes. Oz, your former boyfriend and werewolf. I didn't mean former werewolf, of course. I assume he still is one of those. No one's found a complete cure for that yet."

Willow opened her eyes. Not a hospital room. Not a hospital bed either. A patchwork quilt covered her, and a blonde woman she didn't recognize sat in a high back wooden chair beside her. The woman smiled at her, entirely too perky considering the world could end at any moment. Or maybe it all ready had.

The woman patted her on the shoulder. "Oz is not here."

"Xander?" Willow pleaded.

"Is back in Sunnydale."

"Then where am I?" _Please don't say hell. Please don't say hell._

"In England, you silly. As soon as the coven gives you a clean bill of health, we can go back. And you can start making arrangements to repay me for the extensive damage you caused my store." The woman offered out a piece of paper and a pen. "I've taken the liberty of drawing up a payment plan based on conservative estimates."

Okay, not technically hell. But what was she doing in England? Why was this woman trying to extort money from her? And more importantly… "Who are you?"

"Oh, crap." The perkiness dropped off the woman's face. "My name is Anya Christina Emmanuella Jenkins. But you should know that already. If you'll excuse me for just a moment…"

The woman vanished into thin air.

Willow whimpered and pulled the quilt up to her chin.

* * *

Light flickering over her closed eyelids woke Dawn. She had dozed off against a boulder after her spirit guide had suddenly and unexpectedly leapt from her arms and rabbited off into the desert. Like rabbits are wont to do.

Someone had built a bonfire just in front of her. That someone was barely visible through the fingers of flame separating them.

"You're the First Slayer. Buffy told me about you."

Her dreadlocks bobbed as she nodded slightly, constantly shifting her weight side to side. Thin, gauzy rags covered her torso. Arms, legs, and face gleamed with white warpaint in contrast to her dark skin. Her arms she held out to either side of her, like a tightrope walker improving her balance. The entire package embodied the power of the Slayer without the trappings of a normal life.

"You are not the Slayer, nor will you ever be," the Slayer told her.

Dawn felt both relief and disappointment at the same time. "Then why did this quest thingy work? Can anyone just come out here and ask you stuff?"

"No. But you are connected to our power now. You are the Key."

"Duh. I know _that_. I open the gates to Hell. Real self-esteem booster there."

The Slayer shook her head, pacing her side of the fire, moving restlessly like a shark. "No, that is merely what _she_ wished to unlock. But you are more. You are the Key. You open _all_ doors."

"Okay, so that's what I _was_: magic, glowy Key thing. But then the monks made me." She touched her body with her hands, emphasizing her meaning. "_This_ me. What did they make? 'Cause I'm more than just a kid, aren't I? I'm not strong like Buffy, but how do I know this stuff? How can I pick up a sword and just _know_? How did I catch those knives or know any of those martial arts moves? I mean, I don't even watch Jackie Chan. And to be honest, I never got to see many of Buffy's action scenes either."

"They did not have the power to change what you are. You are still the Key. They made you a body of Slayer's blood, and so you are the Slayer's Key."

"So I open the doors to slayerness?"

"You are connected both to the source and to the end. You are the Slayer's Key."

"Again with the cryptic. See, Buffy gave me a replay of the whole 'death is your gift' thing, and I'm prepared." Dawn pulled out her diary and started flipping through pages, searching for the well thought-out questions she'd written down in advance. "Question one…"

When she'd lifted her eyes from the page, ready to grill the first Slayer until there were no ambiguities or loopholes left, she found the bonfire and slayer both gone. Just the empty desert.

"Crap!"

She was the Slayer's Key. That was hardly any more enlightening than "Death is your gift."

* * *

"Just because she didn't recognize you, doesn't mean her brain is fried," Buffy argued. "Maybe… maybe she _wanted_ to forget you."

Anya considered this, becoming outraged at the possibility. "Maybe she's faking it! To get out of paying for all the damage at the Magic Box. That sneaky, evil witch!"

"Enough!" Giles interrupted forcefully. "Both of you. Speculating on Willow's state of mind is rather pointless at this particular moment. Let's reserve all judgments until _after_ she's returned home."

"She's already home," Anya informed them.

"What?" watcher and slayer chimed in unison.

"Home. She's already there. That's why I've been looking for you two. The coven couldn't help her. She didn't recognize any of them either. Kept carrying on like she'd been kidnapped or something. She tried to SOS the neighbors with a flashlight. Except for being really annoying, she's harmless now, so they just zapped her back to your house, and I followed right behind. Emily was nice enough to tell me where you all had gone… after I talked her out of her crossbow. Who is she, by the way?"

"Don't any of those women believe in airplanes?" Buffy grumbled. "Zapping people everywhere. I tell you, that's why the airline industry is going belly up."

"Buffy," Giles touched her shoulder to get her attention. "Maybe you should go back to be with Willow. I'll wait here for Dawn."

"No, I… You go, Giles. I don't know if I can. What if she doesn't know who I am either? Or what if she does, and it's just really weird?"

"Or we could all go," Anya suggested, pointing just over their shoulders. "Here comes Dawn now."

Dawn didn't look happy.

"How'd it go?" Buffy tried.

"You shoulda just bought me a Magic 8 ball," she grumbled. That was all she was willing to share about her quest in the desert.

They all piled into Buffy's Jeep (which used to be their mom's Jeep) and drove home (except that Anya just zapped home, claiming that the last road trip involving horses and spears and crazy hellgods had put her off road trips in general).

* * *

Buffy didn't know if she could go inside. The last time she'd seen Willow, they'd been beating the crap out of each other. Willow had tried to bring the Magic Box down on top of Giles. The way he'd looked right after it was all over, Buffy had wondered if Willow had succeeded in doing so after all.

She'd tried to hurt Dawn. She'd tried to end the world. She'd summoned a bunch of stick monsters to finish the Summers sisters off. Worst of all, she'd skinned a man with a flick of her wrist. Murder without hesitation or remorse. Buffy could still remember the smell of Warren's body and the sounds of Xander's retching.

What did you say to a friend after that? How was rehab?

Giles' hand on her shoulder gave Buffy the courage to open the door and go inside.

"Buffy!" Willow squealed, dashing over and enveloping her in a hug as soon as they'd gotten inside. Buffy didn't quite hug back, just patted her on the back politely until Willow let go. "I'm so glad you're here. Somehow I woke up in England with this weird girl telling me—"

"I have a name!" Anya protested.

Willow leaned in close and whispered it in Buffy's ear. "I think she's a demon. She just keeps vanishing."

Buffy steered her friend inside, sitting them both down on the couch. Willow wouldn't let go of her arm, as if she might vanish too. She kept babbling, so very much the Willow she remembered that it made Buffy's heart ache.

"What's going on, Buffy? Where is everyone? Where's Xander? Did he give you the message? I tried, I really did, but I guess I'm better at researching the magic than doing it. And Giles—" Her eyes lighted on Giles in the next moment. Smiling broadly, she dashed over to give him a hug too. "Giles, you're okay! Mostly okay," she corrected after she hugged him a bit too tightly for his still healing ribs, eliciting a small gasp and grimace. "Oh poor Giles, what'd he do to you?"

His injuries were specifically attributable to her, but no one pointed that out to her just yet.

"Willow, come have a seat," Buffy asked gently, patting the couch next to her.

"What's going on?" She sat down as requested, wringing her hands and jiggling her knees slightly with nerves. "Did it open? Are we getting sucked into hell?" She glanced around the living room and the assembled crowd all gawking at her. "Where's your mom?"

"Will, my mom's dead." Buffy was surprised at the ease with which she said it.

But she saw the raw grief in Willow's eyes, a mirror reflection of the day she'd found her mother's body. Hands covering her mouth, the tears came easily for Willow. "Omigod! Angel?"

Maybe Anya was right. Maybe Willow's brain _was_ fried. Because Buffy wasn't able to follow the connections Willow was making. "Angel's fine."

"Fine as in the spell worked and he's Angel again? Or fine as in a fine cloud of dust somewhere over Crawford Street?"

Buffy and Giles exchanged glances. He sat on the arm of the couch just to the other side of Willow. Dawn, Anya, and Emily remained at a respectful distance.

"What's the last thing you remember?" Giles, ever the researcher, began the cross examination.

Willow frowned, concentrating. "Cordelia and Oz. They were helping me do the spell, the spell to curse Angel with his soul again. Angel had Giles at the mansion. And you and Xander—"

"I remember it all," Buffy interrupted, saving her the bother of a 'previously on Buffy the Vampire Slayer' montage. "But that was four years ago, Wills."

"Four _years_?"

Giles rose, hands in his pockets, pacing slightly as he mulled the situation over. "You said then… you said that you had felt something go through you. At the time you did the spell to restore Angel's soul, something went through you."

Anya snapped her fingers eagerly. "The coven said the power wasn't hers! _That's_ when she got the power. That's when it came into her."

"Yes!" Giles spun to face Anya, face flush with the excitement of a puzzle solved. "And when the coven took the power, they took the memories that were tied up with that power!"

Willow closed her eyes, as if chasing a thought hidden deep inside herself. "I kept hearing this other language in my mind. Just before I woke up. I kept hearing this other language, except I was saying the words. Acum. Acum. Like I was sneezing or something."

"Romanian," Giles supplied. "Oz and Cordelia said you started speaking Romanian during the spell."

"So I have amnesia?" Willow seemed much calmer than Buffy imagined she'd have been in that situation. Then again, Willow seemed to have clicked over into research mode, intellectualizing her predicament. "Four years worth of amnesia? Like a bad soap opera?"

Buffy patted Willow on the shoulder reassuringly. "After I fill you in on the last four years, you'll realize 'bad soap opera'… not so far off the mark."

"Xander?" Willow's voice was getting smaller. The truth was beginning to hit home.

"We'll call him, and he'll come right over," Buffy promised.

Anya stepped in to add, "You can't have him. I know you wanted him back then, but he's mine now. Well, not technically mine, seeing as he shattered my hopes and dreams into a billion pieces on the altar he left me at. But I do feel it's only fair to warn you: moving in on a vengeance demon's ex-fiancé… not wise."

Willow turned to Buffy for confirmation. "Her and Xander? But she's a demon."

"And Cordelia wasn't?" Buffy sighed and took pity on the friend who had almost killed her. "Come on, let's go upstairs. I'll give you the Cliff Notes version."

"Besides," Anya added desperately, "you're recently gay. You wouldn't want Xander now anyway."

"Gay? Who's gay?"

Buffy steered her friend towards the stairs by the shoulders. "All in good time."

"I'm not gay," Willow protested. "Hello? Dating a musician! A very _male_ musician."

"Dawn, you're demoted to couch for the night," Buffy informed her as she passed by. "Willow gets your bed." She still didn't know if Giles was sleeping with Emily, but this would certainly force the issue. Four women, three beds, one couch, and one Giles. He was going to have to share with _someone_ tonight.

"Dawn? Who's Dawn?" Willow, still desperately confused, asked as they went up the stairs.

"My sister."

Willow laughed. "You don't have a sister."

Buffy sighed. This was going to be a lot harder than she thought.

* * *

Buffy had never expected to actually enjoy being at the DoubleMeat Palace. But standing in front of the grill, mindlessly flipping burgers, she could just zone out, tune out, click off. This was a little window of time in which she could escape the chaos that was her life right now: no friend recovering from murder and amnesia, no sister with unexplained powers, no confusing and wrong feelings for her watcher, no disturbing mental images of him all entwined and naked with another woman, granted a woman she was doing everything in her power to fix him up with, but another woman all the same. Okay, maybe there were still those images, but everything else was pleasantly forgotten.

"Summers," Todd snuck up behind her and made her drop a burger patty on the floor. "A word."

He walked off, simply expecting her to follow. She did. He led her into the employee break room and then the down the stairs into storage.

"We started having meetings down here now? Did I miss the memo?"

She got to the bottom of the stairs, and the words 'leading a lamb to slaughter' seemed particularly apropos.

Josh, the missing DoubleMeat employee, stepped out of the shadows in full vamp face. She could cross that off her to do list. She didn't have to look for Josh on patrol anymore. She would have reached for Todd, to save his undeserving ass, except Todd had turned around at this point in time, also sporting new fangs.

She started walking backwards up the stairs. If she could get to her employee locker, she kept a stake in her jacket pocket. No stakes on her at the moment; her stupid uniform didn't have pockets.

As she walked backwards, she bumped into another cold body. Ambush, all right. She reached around and punched him with everything she had. But he'd already jabbed something in her side. Things were spinning, and she was grabbing for the railing as she stumbled. Todd and Josh caught her as she fell. How kind of them.

Everything went black.

* * *

The three of them carried her through the sewer system, a wary eye constantly vigilant in case the tranquilizer wore off before they'd reached the lair.

They dropped her on the ground in front of their Sire.

Harmony clapped her hands giddily. "Ooo, and she's still wearing the hat and that god-awful stripey shirt. Quick, someone get me a camera!"


	6. Chapter 6

Harmony bounced on the bed. "Wake up, sleepy head. I have a surprise for you."

The lump of covers shifted slightly and groaned. Empty and half empty bottles of booze littered the floor around the bed. They covered the surface area of the nightstand and sat in a row across the headboard. She suspected he probably had a flask of something stashed under the covers with him too. It sure smelled like he did, at any rate. The whole room reeked of booze and stale pig's blood and… She crinkled her nose. He hadn't left this room in days, only crawled out of bed to take a leak in the corner. She was starting to regret taking him back. The begging had been nice at first, and she had enjoyed being the one in charge finally, but she missed being ravished and brutalized and made to cry uncle. When they had sex, it was all gentle and tender, and after he came, he cried like a baby. Well, sometimes he just passed out.

She jiggled the bed some more. "Wakey, wakey."

A hand darted out from beneath the covers, knocking into the discarded bottles on the nightstand. They toppled over like bowling pins.

She grabbed the wrist and nibbled on the fingers. She bit the tip of his thumb hard enough to hurt.

"Sod off, Harm."

"But I brought you a present, Spike. Something that's going to make my Blondie Bear feel like himself again."

"Yeah?" He didn't emerge from the covers, but he did sound mildly interested. "You find a time machine somewhere?" His words were slurred. He was still drunk. He was always drunk.

"The slayer, Spikey. I finally got her."

He finally poked his head out to look at her. For a guy who spent all his time sulking in bed, you'd think he'd have worse bed-head, maybe flat on one side. But it remained all cute and … well, spiky. And you'd think he'd be a little more appreciative of her accomplishment, considering how hard it had been to think up, and how nasty those DoubleMeat employees had tasted.

"C'mon, Spikey-wikey, she's all chained up and waiting. This'll fix everything."

"How?" He got up out of bed, wrapping a sheet around his naked body. Like it was anything she hadn't seen before. "How will this fix anything, Harm? Don't you get it? She's the reason… the reason for all of it… for this constant fire burning inside me. Doesn't matter how much I drink, can't put this fire out."

"Well, duh, everyone knows you don't put alcohol on a fire. I mean, that's how they make flambé."

He glared at her for several long seconds.

"Oooohhh! I get it! That was supposed to be metaphorical, wasn't it?" She flounced over to him, wrapping her arms around his neck. He flinched back from her initial touch. "Look, the slayer will fix everything. You can get rid of that icky soul and everything will be the way it was."

"What makes you think the slayer can unsoul me?"

"She did it for Angel. You told me." She nipped at his earlobes, whispering the rest. "I know I said no threesomes unless boy, girl, boy."

"Or Chereze Theron," he finished absently.

"Right. Except not the fat, ugly Chereze from that Monster movie." She pulled away, toying with the longer hair at the nape of his neck. "But I might make an exception to the threesome rule, if sleeping with the slayer will make my Blondie Bear himself again. And if you promise to make her scream."

Spike should thank her, or at least compliment her on the brilliance of her plan. Instead he just laughed and laughed. A little giggling. A mad twitter. Hysterical laughter that verged on tears. He did that sometimes, swung from one extreme to the other, and she never knew what might set it off.

"What's so funny?" She stomped her foot in frustration.

"Angel slept with Buffy and _lost_ his soul." Spike pressed his hand to his chest, trying to force the words out through his laughter. "I slept with her and _got_ mine."

Now she really was confused. "I thought you went to Africa and that demon gave you your soul?" Her eyes widened, and she speculated, "Oooo, was Buffy in Africa with the demon?"

The laughter stopped abruptly. "She's everywhere," he replied cryptically. He pressed his hands to his head and slid down the wall to his knees. Harmony rolled her eyes. He was going to start rocking again, rocking and moaning about what a terrible person he was. She had tried some of that self-empowerment stuff on him like she'd learned in LA, but Spike didn't seem to want to take charge of his destiny like she'd done. Maybe she just wasn't explaining it right.

"Come on, Spike. You keep saying you wish you could take it back. Well, your undo charm is chained up and waiting, and I went through a lot of trouble and thinking to get her here. So go bang your ex-girlfriend already, and then we can finally be together! I mean, it only took one time for Angel, right?"

"You stupid bint," Spike muttered, continuing on in a louder voice before she could protest the insult. "Angel lost his soul because of the gypsy curse! A little rough and tumble with the slayer made him a happy man, apparently something more horrific to them than Angelus.

"_I_ wasn't cursed by gypsies, Harm. Just a demon with a sick sense of humor. Ergo, no strings attached to my soul, no loopholes, no escape clauses, no end to this insufferable torment, just an eternity to remember, to regret, to hear them screaming and begging for their lives, to hear _her_ screaming and begging… forever and ever… amen."

He started crying then, sobbing brokenly, and she was so sick of it, she wanted to give him something to really cry about. A good staking would end all his pathetic blubbering. But… but… damn, he was really, really good in bed, and they had history together, and he was the only other vamp she'd found who wanted to be with her more than a few nights, let alone all eternity.

She just wanted her old Spikie back, the big bad he was before his infatuation with the slayer made him go all soft.

And apparently her plan for accomplishing that was less brilliant than she'd originally thought. "So sleeping with Buffy won't get rid of your soul?"

He shook his head. "Just'll make me remember…" He groaned and stumbled to his feet. "Oh God, I need a drink."

That was nothing new.

Harmony stared out into the dark caverns leading to their little love lair. She had the slayer chained and drugged, and now she didn't know what to do with her. Harmony chewed on her lower lip as she thought. What else could she do with a slayer? And how could she keep all the do-good friends from ruining everything?

* * *

Xander's restless movements set Willow's nerves on edge. He drifted closer and then further away, circling her like some goofy planet with a corkscrew orbit. His attempts at humor were obviously forced. She would have to be an idiot not to notice how skittish everyone was around her. And of all the taunts and teasing she'd endured from her classmates, not once had anyone called her an idiot.

"Xander, you're making me dizzy. Just sit here with me a sec, okay." She patted the edge of the bed, and he slid in beside her, leaving more personal space between them than she was used to from Xander.

This was her bed, her room, at least that's what she was told. It didn't feel like hers. She didn't recognize much of the stuff. Giles' friend Emily had been staying in the room, but supposedly she'd left most of her things in the suitcase that was lying next to the wardrobe. It could've still been Joyce's, for as much as Willow recognized anything. Except Buffy's mom was dead. Someone else was dead too, someone she was supposed to have loved with this all consuming fiery passion. Tara. Nothing more than a name now.

"I kinda remember what you said before. In the hospital. Maybe you don't. I guess for you it was years ago. Strange, huh? It's still a little fuzzy for me, too, but it still feels like yesterday. Or maybe it was just a delirious concussion thing and never really happened. Anyway, I was waking up, and you were telling me you love me."

"I do love you, Will. I meant it before: I love yellow crayon breaky Willow and I love—"

"Yellow crayon breaky Willow?"

"Yeah, you know, kindergarten…? You broke the crayon…?" He paused suddenly, eyes panicked. "You do still remember all that right? Quick: how many fingers am I holding?"

She rolled her eyes. "Amnesia, not blind, Xander. And yeah, I remember _that_. Four missing years is enough." The awkward silence stretched between them again, and awkward silences had never entered their relationship before. There was only one logical explanation. All those years she'd harbored a secret crush on him and now her most basic fear had been realized: something had changed between them. "Xander, did we ever… you know? Were we ever a… _you know_? Was there like… couply… stuff with us?"

"No— I mean yeah, but not really. Just bad hormones. Really, really bad. We saw the error of our ways. Reformed. 12-step program. Besides—" He shrugged and gave her a furtive up and down look. "You're all gay now."

"Everyone keeps saying that," Willow grumbled, running her fingers through her hair. It was so much shorter than she remembered, and layered. "But honestly, not feeling the girl love. It's not like my stomach does flip flops thinking about… about _Cordelia_—" her face wrinkled in disgust "—or… or… Harmony or even Buffy."

A moment's panic sparked through her as she remembered the awkward, standoffish way Buffy was around her. "Omigod, Xander!" Her wide eyes begged him for the right answer. "Please tell me Buffy and I weren't… couply?"

This earned her a full belly-laugh. He rolled right off the bed and onto the floor, tears streaming down his face and struggling for breath. She grabbed the nearest pillow and started beating him with it. He defended himself with tickling. He knew all her vulnerable spots. They wrestled each other for the upper hand. She knew more than a few of his ticklish spots too.

When they stopped, she was laying on top of him, almost nose to nose. A different kind of awkward silence than earlier stilled their laughter. This kind of awkward silence she understood a bit better. Guessing movie quotes and ice cream on her nose. And Xander seeing her, really _seeing_ her.

Willow was almost surprised to find that she was the one putting Buffy between them when she said, "So Buffy and I never…"

"Only in my dreams, Will, only in my dreams."

She rolled off him, then whacked him in the side for good measure. A soft umph, and then they drifted into a comfortable silence, the kind of silence that let her know that whatever else had changed, the important things remained the same.

* * *

Emily watched Rupert from the foot of the stairs for a moment. He seemed at ease in this house, in a way she had never seen him in his own. He traded teasing banter with the slayer's sister as he grilled her about the desert quest, a small grin quirking at the corner of his lips even as he rolled his eyes at the girl.

Over the last few days, Emily had the opportunity to put faces to the names from his stories. Buffy. Xander. Dawn. Anya. Now even Willow. One face she had never thought to look for: Giles. She was having to relearn his face now, as if he were a different man. Giles from Sunnydale and Rupert from Bath were two entirely different men, and Emily hadn't quite expected that.

Shattered. That had been the man she met in Bath. Shattered by his slayer's death, and rattling around his flat like a ghost in his own home.

Just as shattered when he returned from Sunnydale the next time, as if he'd left pieces of himself behind.

Emily had tried her best to mend the pieces that remained. In some sick way, that was the draw. White knight complex, Florence Nightingale disorder, whatever you wanted to call it, Emily had it bad. All her past boyfriends were the walking wounded in some form or another. When she'd met Rupert, his wounds had put her past relationships to shame, and she'd fallen hard.

The nights they shared a bed at either his flat or her house, his touch had always held an edge of desperation. In the morning, she would wake, trapped in his arms, as if he were afraid to let her go.

She told herself it was love that made him hold on so tightly.

One night in the same bed in Sunnydale, and she knew differently. A comfortable tangle of limbs as they drifted to sleep. When she woke in the morning, he was lying slightly apart from her, and she realized that _she_ was the one reaching for _him_.

Now, watching him from the foot of the stairs, she had the answer she had searched for since that first chance meeting at the corner café. She knew how to mend the shattered pieces of his wounded soul. No hope for Rupert, the man she knew from Bath, but Giles from Sunnydale, she was beginning to discover was not nearly as broken. One small crack, and Emily could fix that.

She smiled as she joined them in the living room, beaming at him even. He tilted his head slightly at her, an unspoken question in his eyes: _what had her in such a good mood?_ She shrugged slightly in answer, leaving his curiosity unsatisfied, and instead turned her attention to Dawn.

"I take it your quest in the desert didn't provide the desired enlightenment?"

"I'm the Slayer's Key." Dawn shrugged, unimpressed with her spirit guide's insight. "I should put it on a T-shirt. Sounds kinda cool, even if it doesn't mean much."

Emily turned to Rupert for translation.

"Dawn was once a Key in the form of mystical energy. In order to protect her, they sent her to the slayer as her little sister. Apparently, since the monks made her out of the slayer, she is somehow connected to that power."

"How connected?"

Rupert frowned in thought, twirling his glasses at the end of his fingers.

Dawn jumped up to answer the phone, seemingly eager to escape their scrutiny. A moment later, she rejoined them, a puzzled frown on her face. "Giles, Buffy left for work this morning, right?"

"I can't imagine where else she'd be going in that outfit. Why?"

Dawn cocked her head towards the phone. "That was the DoubleMeat. She's missing in action."

He shared a worried glance with Emily, but his face had smoothed a moment later as he calmed Dawn's fears. "I'm sure it's nothing. Buffy had some slayer suspicions she wanted to investigate. Maybe that took precedence over work."

He was on his feet and heading to the door all the same. He reached one hand out to draw Emily along behind him, almost as an afterthought. "I'll have a quick drive around town and look for her. It'll give me a chance to show Emily around."

In Bath, he had needed her, in Sunnydale she was little more than a tagalong.

Dawn called out after them: "If you do find her, tell her they fired her. She doesn't have to go back."

"Thank God for small mercies," he muttered under his breath as the door closed behind them.

* * *

Buffy woke up, hanging from chains, dizzy and nauseas from whatever they had drugged her with. The DoubleMeat smell didn't help with the nausea. Neither did seeing Spike sprawled against the far wall, a bottle of beer tipped in one hand and a half dozen empty ones scattered on the floor around him.

She tried to muster up that old slayer courage, defiance in the face of danger. But the fear churning in her gut had little to do with being the slayer, and more to do with simply being a woman. She remembered the bathroom all too clearly, the violation of his touch crawling across her skin – _I know you felt it when I was inside you_ – pinning her, bruising her, as she pleaded for him to stop – _I'm gonna make you feel it_ – the terror that he would be inside her, hollowing her out into an empty vessel for his rage. The idea that being captured and chained up in these catacombs might just be another variation on the same theme, one that might have a better chance for success, that idea instilled a sense of panic that even slayer courage couldn't quiet.

"Let me go, Spike." She wanted her voice to sound demanding, dangerous, instead it sounded plaintive, even trembling.

"I've tried." He took a swig off the bottle in his hand, realized it was empty and threw it across the room. "Believe me, I've bloody well tried. Tried to kill you. Tried to love you. Can't let you go, Buffy. You've poisoned me."

She took a deep breath and steadied herself. "I meant, let me out of these chains. Let me go."

He stood, wavered for a moment, and then stumbled over to her. He caressed her cheek with his knuckles, and she froze.

"Please, Spike, don't." Tears rolled down her cheeks and wet his hand.

"Don't worry, luv, it'll all be over soon. For both of us." Then he fell to the ground at her feet and cried, curled into a tight ball of misery, his whole body convulsing as he sobbed.

to be continued...


End file.
